


Wine and Fire

by mosvalsky



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drunken sex, Father/Son Incest, Humor, Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosvalsky/pseuds/mosvalsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas becomes a whole different person while drunk, and then doesn't remember anything the next morning. Thranduil, on the other hand, remembers everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Legolas woke late in the morning with a throbbing headache. "Too much wine," he lamented bitterly, trying his best to will away the pain, but to no avail.

As he threw off the light sheets that were loosely covering him and attempted to get up, he felt himself grow dizzy and sighed, quite defeated. But ignoring his condition for the sake of getting dressed, he pulled himself from his bed and went in search of the nearest clothing he could find, which turned out to be his tunic and leggings, which were strewn for some reason across the stone floor. As he reached for the articles, he felt more pain. His entire body ached, and he suddenly vehemently wished he could recall the events of the night, but all that remained was a blur.

Quickly dressing, Legolas resolved to go in search of some healing herbs. There had to be a cure for his hangover somewhere within the walls of the palace.

Legolas clambered about in one of the many medicine stores, focused on his task and so distracted by his determination to find what he needed that he failed to notice that as he threw about various herbs, he was no longer alone.

The court healer cleared his throat loudly, and Legolas jumped, dropping a jar of dried thyme, which the healer luckily caught with slender, pale fingers. Legolas turned and looked apolegetically at him, but the healer smiled brightly at him, more amused than upset. He pushed the jar back into its place and said cheerily, "Good morning, ernilen."

Flushed with embarrassment, Legolas removed himself from the store and returned the pleasantry, "'morning."

"It must have been quite some party," the healer mused, "after all, you are the second one now to come rummaging about the herb supplies this morning."

Legolas looked at him dumbly. His headache was flaring back and he was in no mood for such a conversation. The healer seemed to have gotten the point, and said simply, "If you're looking for the herbs for your hangover, you will want to seek out your father." He laughed to himself, "the poor king had the worst one I have ever seen. I gave him all I had for it."

Legolas nodded and thanked him, then started off towards his father's chambers. Anything to fix the searing pain in his head. As he walked through the halls, he rubbed his temples hoping to alleviate it. When he came to his father's door, he hesitated, realizing that if the healer's words were accurate, he may not take too kindly to being woken, but being desperate to be rid of the throbbing in his head, he knocked anyway and awaited an answer.

"Leave me be," came the husky reply from inside the room.

"Ada," Legolas pressed lightly against the door, "It's me, Legolas."  
Silence. Then eventually he heard rustling from inside the room. When he finally heard footsteps coming towards him, he stepped back to give him space to open the door.

Thranduil stood at the doorway with his hand in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the little amount of light there was. He was dressed in the lightest of sleeping robes, silken and pale blue, and the hair that fell about him was in disarray and in serious need of brushing. "What is it, son?" He spoke directly, clearly unable to deal with formalities.

"I...I wanted...wanted to...see if you had any more hangover herbs," Legolas stuttered, trying his hardest not to laugh at the disheveled appearance of the mighty king.

Thranduil briefly smiled at him, but then winced again, clearly having his own problems. "You too?"

Legolas nodded, and Thranduil led him inside his room. He immediately noticed the lack of light as he entered. Thranduil moved to a tray on top of one of his bedside tables and took from it a clear jar that contained a variety of greenish dried and crumpled leaves. He expected to just be given the jar, but Thranduil actually went about preparing a concoction for him. He measured out about three spoonfulls from the jar into a cup, then poured into it an unknown liquid from a silver carafe and stirred it with the spoon. Satisfied with the consistency, he clanked the spool on the tray and handed the cup to his son, saying quietly, "Drink this, and then let yourself sleep. It should help."

Legolas was oddly taken aback when he reached for the glass. It seemed very familiar to him, and he couldn't place why.

"It should, anyway. Certainly not something I can account for." Thranduil continued bitterly, quite upset at his persistent headache. "You drank a lot though. You may need the rest," He then handed him the remainder of the herbs.

Legolas took the offered jar and clasped it with a free hand. "Ada," Legolas lifted his eyes from the herbs and met his father's, "Do you remember what happened last night?"

Thranduil pursed his lips and averted his gaze, but his voice still possessed power and authority as he replied, "I remember only fragments of the evening. Fleeting images. Nothing solid enough to mention."

Fumbling with the jar in his hand, Legolas said softly, "I recall nothing. No glimpse or momentary glance."

"I'm not suprised. You drank quite a fair amount. And you are still young. Your body is not yet fully adjusted to the alcohol." He finally returned his gaze to his son, allowing his eyes to trail over him, as he spoke his last words. "Drink," motioning to the glass in his son's hands, "You'll feel better"

Legolas drained the glass and handed it back to his father, who set it back on his bedside tray. He then nodded his thanks and waited for any sort of reply. But feeling the wieght of his father's silence, he turned to leave the bedroom. Thranduil said nothing as he watched him walk away, and shut his eyes tightly as he left his vision. Thranduil suddenly felt sickness rising in him, from both the after-effects of the wine and the blatant lies he had told his son. He wished horribly that his mind would shed the images of the previous night, but everything remained vivid in his mind. Closing the door behind his son, Thranduil shrugged off his robe, leaving it on the floor at his feet, and slid back between the covers of his bed, hoping that sleep would alleviate the horrid images that ceaselessly flew before his eyes.

 

Legolas returned to his room with the jar. Sleep? Aye, that was something he could do.

It took no difficulty for him to fall asleep, but his dreams were troubled. He tossed and turned, struggling with demons he had not even realized were there.

In his dreams, a scene formed. A room, completely gray with inlaid stone, and chillingly cold. An ornate bed sat against a wall, and Legolas recognized it as his own. It was his room, and yet it seemed so oddly distant from the room he knew to be his.

Legolas stood in the center, his mind reeling, unable to form any thoughts. The door was thrown open, and in the doorway stood his father, majestic and looming, his brilliantly piercing eyes focused on him intently. The fire that burned in them frightened Legolas to the core, but he kept his ground, his eyes meeting Thranduil's, though not with nearly the intensity.

In seconds that felt like hours, the figured rushed to him, and Legolas had hands raking over his skin and a greedy mouth plundering his. Fire lashed about him and he was lost in a sudden passionate fury that he was too dizzy to even comprehend. He could barely see his partner through his glazed eyes, but he responded readily to every touch and kiss, every caress of hands and tongue.

why am I not fighting him? He wondered feverishly, detached as if he were watching himself. But he knew the answer. His thoughts were blurry and the touches felt so good. He shuddered under the hands of the elf before him, and moans escaped the lips that were furiously captured by him. He was in so much pleasure that he ignored that the elf was his father.

His beautiful father, whose silvery hair spilled down onto Legolas' chest and shoulders and whose shapely lips moved so perfectly against his before traveling downwards, grazing his jaw and sucking at his neck.

He could barely breathe as his father began to undo his top clasps. Fear and excitement rose in him as the cloth was finally slid off, but the strong feelings of hesitation were hushed away as Thranduil murmured sweet reassurances in his ear, sending heat through his body and making his cheeks and the tips of his ears burn a bright red.

With blind passion, Thranduil claimed the body, hands running all over the young prince, caressing the strong back, feeling his way along his sides, grabbing ahold of his waist as he pressed himself close against him, feeling his arousal against his own. A lengthy groan escaped Legolas' throat at the friction, and Thranduil sighed his appreciation at the melodious sound against his lips, still only inches from his.

Pressing his lips to the supple body in his hands, Thranduil slowly began descending, his tongue flicking from collarbone to nipple to bellybutton, eventually falling to his knees before his son and licking along his shaft, then taking the hardened member in his mouth, skillfully but lazily sucking and teasing.

The heat the young elf hadn't even realized was there now threated to burn him at the pleasure his father was giving him. The moans he was emitting were increasing their rapidity, and he could do nothing to stop himself from calling out his father's name. The word "ada" was seared onto his lips.  
With white flashes of light, Legolas woke, panting and sweating.

"Valar, what was that...?" Legolas breathed into his empty bedroom. It was still the middle of the day, and the sun shone brightly through the window. He blinked his eyes, attempting to forget all the contents of his dream, but the more he tried to erase them, the more they stayed in his mind. Staining him with their passion and fury.

He sat up in his bed, clutching at his bed sheets as he tried calming himself with reassuring thoughts. It was only a dream. Yet he was hardly convinced.

When Legolas had finally recovered his breathing, he felt his stomach begin to turn, and rushed to the bathroom. He reached it just in time and emptied his stomach. When he finished his heaving, he fell back against the wall, exhausted.

But as he leant his head back to rest, he realized that he actually felt better. The throbbing in his head and stomach that had pained him since his first waking had passed.

Is that what these herbs were meant to do? Legolas rose at the thought to go find the jar. Taking it off the nightstand where he left it, he opened it and examined its contents.

With an immediate crinkle of his nose after a whiff of the herbs, his suspicions were confirmed, which he replied to with a tired whine.

Annoyed at having not realized that earlier, he sighed loudly and threw himself back onto his bed. Tiredness coursed through him and he soon felt himself drifting back to sleep.  
  
When he finally succumbed to his exhaustion, his dreams were clear and free of anything, and when he woke again at last, he completely forgot the dreams he had awoken to only hours earlier.

 

The following months went without incident. No more odd dreams plagued the young prince, and not a single hangover touched his head. He had sworn himself off of wine, as he now feared that result, and until mid-summer, he kept to that oath.

It was a beautiful summer morning that Legolas woke to. The incense of fresh grass and gardenia filled his chambers and a spirit of liveliness surged through him as he sprung up and threw open the velvet curtains that barred the morning light from the room.

A clear blue sky met the tips of the far-away mountains in the horizon, and the green trees of Eryn Lasgalen looked painted, shining brightly under the rays of the sun. The whole forest echoed with the beauties of morning, and in the distance he could hear the gentle singing of elves below.

Songs of summer. It was exactly mid-summer after all, and the forest, like Legolas, was brimming with excitement for the festival.

Soon the sky would turn to shades of red and pink and orange and the elves of the forest would delight in dancing and feasting until ithil and giliath cast their haunting light onto the merriment, and the gaiety grew even more. There was no happy sight in all of arda that could match that of the elves under the mid-summer stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish used:  
> ernilen-my prince  
> ada-dad  
> eryn lasgalen-wood of greenleaves  
> ithil-the moon  
> giliath-stars


	2. Drunk

The blackened sky spun above him, the stars shining out, unfocused in his vision but still bright against the dark of night. He lay in a clearing away from the festivities, but still close enough to hear the revelries and merriment of the other elves, playful voices and generous laughter. Combined with the subtle hum of cicadas, it was very pleasant.

 

It was there that Thranduil saw him, splayed upon the soft grass and staring mystified into the night sky. The prince looked utterly relaxed. His slender fingers were entwined in the blond waves of silk that pooled about his head. His eyes were almost closed, and his cherub lips were ever so slightly apart. 

Thranduil strode towards his peaceful son slowly, without thinking, allowing the feel of the soft ground under his bare feet to dominate his thoughts. When he reached the spot, he stretched out next to him, sitting with his palms resting on the ground behind his back.

"The night is calm," the king began, looking before him into the forest. Legolas immediately sat up at the words, startled, as he thought he had been alone, having not noticed the king's presence. 

Thranduil continued unaffected and arched his neck to gaze at the stars as he spoke, "in all my years on arda, I've never seen such a gorgeous, clear summer. The trees themselves seem exuberant. The pure green is almost intoxicating. And the stars..." Thranduil stopped, realizing he didn't have the words for what he wanted to express.

"They're dancing," Legolas murmured, his gaze returning to the sky. 

"Yes, exactly." Thranduil said gently, his watchful eyes falling to the young elf that had perfectly phrased his jumbled thoughts. In proximity, Legolas had lost a certain sense of his calmness, but it was no real detraction, as it was replaced by the overwhelming wonder he could now see existed within his eyes.   
But his body still was fully relaxed, as he propped himself up with his hands and let his head fall back, his eyes finally closing. 

The shift of positions allowed Thranduil to smell the incense that was shaken from his hair. The aroma of the forest. Earthy, but slightly sweet. Of patchouli and lavender. But also something else.

"You've been drinking." Thranduil sat up straighter, turning towards his son as he placed the accusing statement. 

Legolas hummed in response, a smile gracing his lips. 

"How much have you had, I wonder?" Despite the rhetorical phrasing, it was a legitimate question. He knew how Legolas was when he was drunk, and it frightened him terribly. Because he was in no mood to fight back.

Legolas looked up from his position to lock eyes with his father, and murmured in reply, "enough."

Thranduil raised his brows at the ambiguous response, but Legolas continued before he could say anything, again looking away, into the open darkness of the sky. 

"Or perhaps...not enough." Legolas let out a quiet laugh which startled Thranduil further. 

"It would seem that 'enough' was about right," he said sternly, more closely studying his visage with narrowed eyes. Yet all he could discern was that his son's airy mood was dangerous beyond any doubt.

"Ada..." Legolas had brought himself closer, his eyes now focused before him, and Thranduil could now clearly see the color of his flushed cheeks. 

It's true that Thranduil had not been entirely sober that evening either. His head buzzed pleasantly as a result of several glasses of wine, but it would seem that it was not nearly enough to handle the sight of his inebriated son just before him, his gentle breaths coming out from reddened lips in quiet sighs. His calm body dipped in moonlight that spilled into the clearing.

"Join me, Ada. Watch the stars with me," Legolas said, pulling at his father's shoulders. Thranduil consented, lying down alongside his son, gently wrapping an arm about his shoulder as they looked skyward, enjoying the pool of midnight above.

They lay there for what may have been a few minutes or a few hours, but they were comfortable, and enjoyed the time resting in the simple embrace. It was the type of amiable closeness that Thranduil yearned for more than anything, but never came to truly experience. Legolas was always too far from him, and when a rare moment of proximity occurred, it was something loveless, but nevertheless irresistible, which pained him even more. But how could he ask what he wished of Legolas? As a father, how could he even wish for such a thing for his son? For him to be his lover, his world. Nonetheless, he smiled to himself as he imagined how it would be for the two of them to be in simply a pleasant romantic embrace. 

Eventually, Legolas snuggled into his father in mock sleepiness, though his large stature made the image somewhat odd. But he enjoyed it very much, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his lips pressing into the cloth of his robe, and his fingers softly touching his side. The position was very agreeable for both of them, and Thranduil delighted in having the warm body in his arms, allowing him to rest all his weight on him, and even pulled him closer, though largely unconsciously.   
When Thranduil felt that his son's mind was succumbing into slumber, he pressed his lips onto the top of his head in a gentle kiss. But Legolas was still far from sleeping. "No...." Legolas complained, his head rising to look into his father's face. With a slow movement, he reached out towards Thranduil's neck and brought him within inches of his face. 

Legolas grinned at the elf before him lasciviously. Thranduil could now definitely smell the wine on his breath.

"Like this," Legolas said before meeting his father's lips, giving into the urge that had tempted him the entire time in his company. As he tasted the elder elf, his desire for him grew even greater, and the lips he had captured were brought into a crushing kiss. He shifted his weight onto him so that he lay on top, his father succumbing completely, pressed into the grass, and the fatherly embrace of minutes ago perverted into something else entirely. Legolas smiled even grander when he felt his arousal begin to press into him, and moved his hips to grind against it, much to both Thranduil’s satisfaction and frustration.

Thranduil felt himself yearning to relent to his son's fiery embrace, but he managed to pull back before he was lost in it.

"Legolas, stop." 

Legolas looked at him with hurt and confused eyes, but Thranduil ignored the display of emotion.  
“We shouldn’t do this,” Thranduil said pleadingly, despite everything in him objecting to the words he spoke, “and definitely not here.”  
“The last part can be amended," Legolas replied simply.

Thranduil added a brief nod and lightly pushed his son off of him so that he could get up. 

"Follow me," Thranduil looked down at Legolas, immediately regretting the sudden decision to give in to his son’s less than modest proposal, but unwilling to change his mind. At the words, he clambered from the spot he was pushed onto, eager at what Thranduil might have in store. Though his movements were sluggish, they were enough to pull a smile from his father's lips. He had to admit, the forwardness of his son when he was like this was always equally amusing and arousing to him.

Yet as it was, he knew he couldn't act on the fire that slowly began burning through him, or the guilt of the immoral action would consume him in the flames. He definitely needed more to drink.

So he motioned for Legolas to walk with him, keeping up meaningless conversation so as to avoid any suspicion from the elves that were still dancing under the moonlight.

They made their way back to the inside of the palace, with Legolas occasionally having to lean on his father for support. The slow pace and twisting chambers at least served to calm his mind somewhat. Still, once in Thranduil's chambers, the king immediately led the two towards the bar, drawing a fair-sized bottle of wine and two glasses from the cabinets. The wine poured like liquid gold, and Thranduil savored it as such.

He had almost downed his goblet before remembering to pour Legolas his. But the prince wasn't too bothered, instead using the spare time to remove his boots. When he was passed his glass, he nodded in thanks.  
The warmth brought a perfect smile to the king's lips. It was what he needed. He sighed contentedly as he felt his guilt-ridden thoughts being assuaged. A quick glance at his son informed him that the relief brought by the liquid was shared.

"I thought you said you had had 'enough.' Yet here you are, downing your glass" Thranduil remarked playfully.

Legolas' expression was serious despite the gentle nature of the question "That may have been a miscalculation."

"Really…” Thranduil said, thinking over his words 

"I may yet be in need of more wine," Legolas continued, taking slight sips from his glass, smiling coyly. 

As he stood before his father, few second thoughts occurred to him and any that did ceased to matter almost immediately. Every inch of the marked and stern visage called desire from him. And every bit of his fabric-draped body made his head throb with a mix of longing and frustration.

The dim light of the lanterns set about the cavernous room played shadows across the king, highlighting his features and painting him seductively. And the hot air again threatened to suffocate him. His head pounded brutally, now combining with his chest. He looked up, into the eyes of his subject of admiration, and couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind. If his thoughts were as jumbled as his were, or if his mind was clear, set on only one thing.

Thranduil stood towering above him, his face appearing calm and composed, despite all he felt as he toyed at the glass in his hand. His movements were subtle, but very apparent beneath the hazy orange light, and soon his nervous hands stopped moving, and his eyes glimmered with wildness as he moved to set his wine on a wooden shelf beside him. He had finalized his decision. His robes swished about him as he briefly turned his back from his son. When he faced him again, he set his eyes on the gentle blue ones before him. Legolas felt a shiver run through him under the gaze, and the idea of the desire his father had for him titillated him terribly.

He felt warm hands encircling his, and heat rushed through him at the touch. With gentle fingers, Thranduil guided his hands upwards, so that the glass pressed against Legolas' lips. 

His head was spinning and he barely knew what happened when the wine was poured down his throat, but he swallowed eagerly, the taste of the wine still sweet despite the excess of it he had already consumed that night. 

He was barely aware of his surroundings, and all he heard was the slight clatter of the glass against a hard surface. Distantly, he began feeling touches against his face again, and he relished the contact through the daze.

A thumb rubbed against the side of his mouth, wiping from it a trace of the bitter tonic, and Thranduil swiftly brought the digit to his own mouth, cleaning it with his tongue. With his other hand he pressed his thumb firmly against his jaw, slowly moving upwards as his other fingers graced the underside of it. The hot hands felt so delicious on his flushed face, and the heat and sheer loveliness of it nearly drove him mad as the other hand returned to his face, leading towards his brow and forehead and pushing his hair back in what normally would have been a tender fatherly expression.

With the hand leading down his head and neck and finally taking wind of the golden locks, he slowly began bringing Legolas closer and closer to him, and the young prince felt his head spinning even more than before, his heart beating at least twice as fast. All he could see were the slightly parted lips before him, inches from his own, and the desire to take the lips with his own had never been stronger. It felt like ages as they waited like that, the need of both of them plain to any who saw, but neither of them now dared to move, as if their actions now threatened to destroy their entire way of life. 

As they did, and Legolas had felt the threat deep within his entire body throughout the exchange, but he suppressed every thought in favor of the incredible yearning he felt, the desire to break through the invisible wall that now separated them and kiss his father fiercely. 

The resistance was magnified within Thranduil. His head was far less dizzy with dorwinion, and in his ancient heart he knew that acting on his current need would likely place events before him that he was frightened to think of. The image of Legolas leaving him in hatred and disgust was clear in his mind, and no matter how much wine was involved in the situation, he knew that there was a great possibility of that outcome in the morning.

But the look of the face before him, gorgeous beyond measure and lined with obvious lust, broke past all reservations.

"You have wine on the side of your mouth. How uncouth for a prince." Thranduil smirked, finally closing the distance that separated them, his tongue flicking against the imagined spot of wine, then trailing to the sweet lips that had been setting him on fire for so long, his hot mouth encompassing his son's in a kiss that seemed to seal their fate. A low moan escaped Legolas, and the young elf felt as if he were about to pass out, the kiss alone making him feel incredibly weak, and he had to ground himself with hands set on his father's shoulders. The lips felt so soft against his, but they kissed him with such eagerness that he felt as if the embrace was about to become rough very quickly.

But the change he expected never came. Thranduil was tender with him, almost disappointingly so. Unwilling to leave it quite so gentle, Legolas brought his hands up to his neck, caressing the skin, as one hand drew circles down his back, the other working its way into his hair, tugging slightly as a signal to continue, more fiercely, more passionately.

Thranduil acceded to the silent request, now flicking his tongue, urging the lips beneath his to part. The immediate response of his son made him smile through the kiss. His lips parted eagerly, and the deepening of the kiss made both of their heads pound rapidly. Their concerns of only seconds ago now seemed ridiculous. How this bliss could be any sort of threat was almost laughable to the two elves, intoxicated by the wine and eachother.

Soon Legolas was moving to the clasps of his father's formal summer robe, exposing his marble skin, to the delight of both of them. The refreshing air on his shoulders, with the heated gaze and roaming hands of his son, made Thranduil shiver in delight.

He went button by button, each one undone almost causing a hitch in his voice. "What am I doing...?" He began thinking dazedly as his fingers worked.   
But the thought disappeared as rapidly as it appeared, and with the rest of the fastenings done, the article fell to the floor with a pleasant swish, leaving Thranduil bare-chested, and now only covered by thin leggings.

Legolas stepped back to appreciate his handiwork, admiring the image of his half-naked father. Thranduil smiled, the prurience of his son's gaze bringing a gentle touch to his heart, along with warmth to his loins.

When he finished taking his father in with his eyes, he stepped forward again, his hands outstretched to feel the bare skin of his chest. His touch began tentative, as if he thought the form before him was a mere mirage and would fade away under his hands. But as he moved his hands over firm flesh, he knew it was real. It really was him, his father, his perfect, wonderful father, who not only acquiesced to his touches, but seemed to delight in every brush of his hand. 

Thranduil looked down at Legolas with soft eyes and moved his hands to again cover his son's, then brought them to his lips and bestowed a kiss on each one. "My son..." He interlaced their fingers as he continued, "Shall we continue this on the bed?" He worried briefly that the proposal was too blunt, but Legolas smiled and nodded without hesitation. Thranduil released one hand and used the other to lead him towards the heavily adorned bed. 

The wood of its frame was intricately carved so that a mural of gnarled trees rose from it, and silken red cloth was draped about the sides, resting on the antlers that were shaped about it.

The soft coverings sank considerably as Thranduil sat atop them, bringing Legolas towards him and motioning for him to join him and take a seat on the bed. The simple movement of their sitting caused such a shuffle with the bedsheets that Legolas couldn't help but laugh. "Silk..." He grinned up at Thranduil, with so much more meaning than a simple glance. It was alright, what they wanted to do, what they were about to do. And Thranduil understood exactly that by it, smiling broadly back at him, humor glinting in his eyes. 

"Oh, come here, 'las." With that, he kissed him deeply, laying him down on the bed, the glimmering skin almost sticking to him with the heat of the season as he moved on top of him. But the feeling was wonderful, and the heat only agitated the strong desire that welled up inside him. He moved a palm down Legolas' clothed chest, then proceeded to nearly tear the buttons off as he worked to remove the article. The roughness made Legolas laugh again. It seemed so ridiculous-his father so flustered the way he was, so determined in his small task...the task of disrobing him. It could hardly be real. And his mind still spun, trying to take in everything. He hardly knew what was happening, but he couldn't quite complain. 

"This sudden humor....you really are drunk aren't you?" Thranduil had finally freed him from his coverings and began to bestow kisses on his bare skin. Legolas moaned lightly under the touches, before nodding his response to the question. "Very much so."

Thranduil had an odd feeling strike him as he smiled, taking pleasure in the idea of how loosened his son was. He was stricken with a slight amount of guilt, but it was mostly just heat. It wasn't the first time this had happened. Just a few months ago, nearly the same thing had happened- with a wanton and horribly drunk son and his inability to refuse the offer that was placed before him. And it was very likely not the last time. But there had to be some problem with this-

Legolas moaned again as Thranduil moved his affections towards his neck, sucking and tearing pleased noises from him. 

He shouldn't love it so much. The hot skin, the sunken morals. Surely this would have consequences of some sort. Surely-

But Legolas wasn't satisfied with the kisses and touches, and rolled over, pushing Thranduil onto his back. Thranduil growled at him playfully at the reversal, and Legolas responded with an intense kiss on his lips. 

Surely-

The lips tasted so strongly of everything he'd ever wanted. When Legolas eventually pulled back, a moan of deep longing left Thranduil. Surely nothing could be wrong with something so perfect.

His father's body shuddered as he ran his hands over him, across his chest, along his sides, his hips. When Legolas finally touched him where he needed him, he felt time slow to a halt.

His hands circled around the top of his leggings and undid the ties, then pulled the loosened fabric down his thighs. Thranduil thrusted upwards to make the job easier and the leggings were quickly removed and tossed aside. Legolas then met his eyes as he ran a strong finger across the underside of his aching member, stopping his breathing for a second that felt like ages. He smiled genuinely at Thranduil's response, then proceeded to wrap a hand around his arousal, palming it lazily. The pleasure was undeniable and Thranduil closed his eyes, allowing the feeling to overpower his entire being.

Another marvelous feeling of the release of power hit him as Legolas moved a hand to grab at his thigh, then ran it back towards his buttocks, massaging gently as he went. The control was given to his son, his own power was minimal. He was no longer king, and it was wonderful. Even his earlier misgivings were granted reprieve. After all, his son controlled the situation, so what could he do?

But as Legolas began to push a finger tentatively against his guardian ring, he tensed abruptly, and attempted to sit up, leaving Legolas somewhat confused.

"We seem to have forgotten...." And then the prince realized what Thranduil was getting at.

"Let's use the wine," he suggested blandly, his hands moving higher to stroke his chest. 

Thranduil laughed in response and placed a hand briefly on his shoulder, replying, "We're not using wine." Still laughing, finding the comment highly amusing, he pushed Legolas lightly from him and climbed off the bed, saying simply, "I'll be back in a second."

Legolas frowned as he was again forced aside, but Thranduil kept to his word, and after rummaging through some drawer in his room, returned, holding a glass vial, which he pressed into Legolas' hands as soon as he got to the bed again.

He then climbed back onto the bed and took a rather compromising position before Legolas, his ass bared before him, which the prince admire greatly, and immediately used to his advantage.

He ran his hands along his back and sides and pressed himself close against him, planting gentle kisses from his shoulders to his lower back, then running his tongue along his cleft, and between his cheeks. A slight cry was emitted from the king, who began to squirm under the hot wetness, and wasn't helped when Legolas grabbed the flesh there, his thumbs parting his cheeks, and began to dart his tongue in and out of his entrance. The cries became louder, and Legolas gladly used them as a signal to continue. He was rather capricious with the way he licked about, which Thranduil was quite appreciative of. The inability to know quite where Legolas would be delighted him, and when Legolas met a particularly good spot, it was made even better, and his anticipation had him hanging by a thread. The feeling of his son's tongue exploiting him in such a way brought a twitch to his member and put him in an absolute daze. He didn't know how he would be able to handle it if Legolas were to fill him, his cock moving perfectly inside him. But he craved it so greatly.

And Legolas was thinking the same thing. He had briefly torn his attention from Thranduil to focus on freeing himself from his now very constrictive leggings. Once he had them untied and shoved them down, he briefly indulged himself, giving a few strokes to his own member, then looked to see where he had set the glass vial. When he found it, he unstoppered the top and coated his fingers with the oil, then placed a dry hand against Thranduil's back to brace himself, and with his other pushed a digit against his entrance. 

The king froze at the sudden cold, but relaxed as he moved inside him, stretching him gently. When he added another digit, he let out a shallow breath, then moaned in agreement. "More..." He said quietly, his breathing nearly overpowering the words. 

"What was that?" Legolas asked petulantly, his fingers finding a rhythm, and as Thranduil pushed back in return, he brushed against the spot that released a wild cry from him, which he added to, unmistakably crying, "More!" Legolas was more than obliged, and sought to repeat the sudden pleasure. 

Thranduil was panting and moaning heavily, and at this rate, he thought he might not make it much longer. So, at one particularly rough bit of pleasure, he found himself crying out, "Enough! I need you...more of you..."

Legolas removed his fingers and brought himself closer to Thranduil's face, brushing his cheek with his own as he replied carefully, "If you say so, Ada."

"Yes!" Thranduil hissed immediately after he spoke, his strong desire clear in the raggedness of his response.

He ached for his son more than anything, and the idea of what was about to happen was so pleasurable that he could imagine no reasons why they shouldn’t, no valid stigma, no person or god that could condemn them for their actions. And as   
he felt his wet cock pressing against him, everything seemed to be perfect in that moment. All inadequacies of the world became nonexistent, and the king’s land was a utopia-flawless and beautiful.

Legolas eased his way in, moaning slightly as he was engulfed in his father’s heat. He could barely think as he was flooded with ecstasy. But thinking wasn’t something he wanted to do at that moment anyway. Something like a realization of what he was doing could prove not only unpleasant but simply dangerous. The realization that he was enjoying every movement as he pushed inside his father…it was something he would have preferred not to consider. 

When he felt Thranduil relax around him, he began moving, beginning with short slow thrusts, gradually speeding, feeling his father’s hunger for him growing by the seconds.

“Harder,” He breathed huskily, his entire body begging for more as Legolas pounded into him. The pleasure was building inside him, and he couldn’t help but voice it. The room echoed all of his cries and it created a sort of illusion where only the two of them existed, moving in rhythm, clinging desperately to eachother.

The two were lost in pleasure, and as Legolas felt himself building towards his climax, he also felt Thranduil tense around him. With a slight mischievous grin, he brought a hand around to his father’s front and began pumping his arousal in time with his thrusts. His pants became heavier with the added pleasure, and before long he was shaking furiously, his climax very near. Legolas could tell the both of them were about to come, so he pressed a gentle kiss to his father’s back, followed immediately by an affectionate bite that would surely bloom into a prominent passion mark.

With that, Thranduil let out a loud and heady moan, spilling his seed into his son’s hand. Legolas gasped, the orgasm rippling through Thranduil causing his passage to contract around his son’s cock and forcing him to come in turn, his hot essence filling Thranduil, who couldn’t help but cry his son’s name into the darkness. He was almost so enveloped in the feeling that he failed to notice Legolas quietly sighing words of love to him, but when he returned to his headspace he smiled fondly and kissed him gently but passionately on the mouth. Legolas moaned into the kiss, and began to complain when he was suddenly cut off from his lips, but when he heard what Thranduil spoke to him, he couldn’t be anything but happy.

“Melin le, Legolas.” 

The smile Legolas gave his father was more genuine than any he had ever shaped before. “Melin le, ada.” Thranduil pressed a last, chaste kiss to his lips, then bestowed a warm kiss to his brow and pulled him into his arms as he lay back against the pillows to sleep.

It only took a few minutes for Legolas to fall asleep, and as soon as he did, Thranduil released him carefully to get up from the bed. Once he had finished cleaning up their mess, he pulled on a robe, then wrapped his son in the blankets around him and picked the warm bundle up into his arms. It was unfortunate but necessary for Thranduil to place Legolas back in his own bed. He would have given anything to have been able to wake up in the morning to the sight of his beautiful son smiling up at him, greeting him with a simple morning kiss. But he had to face the reality. That no good could come of allowing Legolas to stay in his bed. In the morning, he would remember nothing, and that was very likely for the best.


	3. Hangover

The only thing that got Thranduil out of bed the following morning was the gnawing hunger that grew in him. He stumbled about his room, pulling his clothes on as best he could. When he was at last decent, dressed in a somewhat casual but still elegant robe, he halted at the door, taking a moment to clear his mind to prepare for the day. He let his head rest against the wood, sighing deeply, then left and began his day as best he could…with a large breakfast.

He had asked that a cook would prepare a hearty breakfast, and such a meal was prepared. Across the long royal table, sliced breads were placed in baskets, fruits of all sorts were laid in various bowls, and eggs and other morning foods filled silver chargers. It was far too much for just the king and the prince, but it seemed the perfect amount for the two ravenous individuals seated at the table.

Legolas was stuffing his face, barely taking time to breathe, and Thranduil couldn’t help but laugh, his cheery voice filling the air in almost a songlike manner.

“Is something amiss?” Legolas said after forcing himself to swallow most of the food in his mouth in order to speak.

Thranduil looked at him gaily and responded, “Absolutely nothing.”

“Is that so?” Legolas was unconvinced and kept eye contact with him as he reached into one of the baskets for a piece of bread. His eyes narrowed as he took a piece and threw it straight at Thranduil’s face.

Thranduil looked shock and indignant as he lightly touched his fingers to the spot the bread had hit his face. “How dare you,” He began, his voice rising somewhat as he began to lecture his son, “I am the king, and you would dare to do such a thing!”

A smile crept onto Legolas’ face as he reached again for the basket, and threw another piece at his father. 

Thranduil’s brows were knitted harshly as he imagined the words he would use to chastise his son, but all he could do was narrow his eyes. A smile of his own began tugging at him, and briefly allowing the mischief, he reached for a strawberry and threw it at Legolas in return.  
Pure silence overtook the table for several moments, but soon the two of them began laughing, wide grins turning into raucous and unstoppable laughter, which eventually evened out as they resumed eating.

After enough quietness, Thranduil allowed a bit of curiosity to overwhelm him and asked as calmly as possible, “So did you enjoy the festivities?” It had the appearance of a normal question, a polite inquiry about a party, and hopefully, Legolas would take it as one without question.

“I don’t know.”

Thranduil stared at him, a twitching brow suggesting to his son that more information was needed for that to make sense.

“I don’t remember most of it," he explained, "but I remember seeing stars at least.”

Thranduil almost choked. After several seconds of him sputtering nervously, Legolas became concerned and leaned across the table, lightly touching his hand as he asked if he was okay. Thranduil nodded, still clearly choking but making a great effort to appear okay, “I’m fine. Stars?”

He wasn’t entirely convinced he was alright, but he let it drop, replying, “Aye, the stars. The most beautiful night sky I’ve seen.”

Sufficiently calmed, Thranduil nodded, avoiding actually replying by taking another bite of food. But still needing to confirm his question, he said slightly louder, “Nothing else?”

Legolas shook his head. “Nothing.” 

Thranduil allowed a slight smile to   
cross his face before Legolas added, “And you? What of your night?”

Thranduil’s eyes widened. He suddenly couldn’t think of anything but the time he spent with his son. “It was…” He worked desperately to think of something, but at last settled for a vague answer, “normal. Far from interesting. Quite typical!” He averted his eyes as he spoke his nonsense, which Legolas couldn’t help but notice.

He said nothing though, just eyeing him as he listened to his odd response. It was clear Thranduil was hiding something, and though he knew that inquiring about it would not help and likely only lead to trouble, he still asked brazenly, “Did something happen?”

The sincere tone Legolas spoke in had an entrancing effect on him, and he didn’t know how to respond. 

'Does he know and is merely playing with my mind?’ He thought desperately, hoping that wasn’t the truth. Even though legitimate innocence of the previous night’s happening was the likelier reality, it was further from Thranduil’s mind and a sort of panic began to set in.

“Ada?” Legolas asked, concerned again, but this time far more serious. “Ada, are you breathing?” He leaned over more, examining his features to see if he was actually alright. He looked as if he were about to pass out. He pressed his hands to his father’s face to keep his head upright, and asked again, “Are you alright?” The hands were burning on his face, and a plethora of mixed thoughts entered his mind. They felt nice, warm, protective even. But when he figured that Legolas legitimately had no idea of what had occurred, his thoughts became nothing but an intrusion of guilt, and he couldn’t bear to feel the concerned, loving hands on his face. He finally blinked and gently moved the hands away, leaving Legolas thoroughly confused, which was magnified when Thranduil said softly, “Please excuse me.”

Legolas was unsure of what to do. His ada didn’t seem to be any sort of condition to be left alone, but what could he do? He settled for agreeing to his request and finding the healer immediately.

************  
On entering the small dining area, the healer was fairly surprised to find the king muttering “why” repeatedly while banging his head against the table, but after hearing from Legolas, he wasn’t too bothered by it. However, despite all his years of patient self-control, he could not stop himself from laughing at it.

Thranduil’s head shot up immediately at the sound of laughter and turned to its source, his eyes narrowed maliciously until he realized who it was. “Caraniâ!” He cried, relieved it was only him.

“My lord,” He replied, head bowed but still grinning broadly.

“What has brought you here?” Thranduil asked, attempting to regain his usual composure.

“I was informed you were in some sort of poor condition. Which seems to be accurate, considering…”

“Yes, well…” Thranduil nodded in reply, his voice faltering somewhat as he continued, “I’m quite fine, really.”

“Mmm” was all Caraniâ could voice, hardly convinced of the king’s weak argument. Yet he held his tongue on the matter, simply standing there, watching and hoping that Thranduil would voice whatever he was hiding on his own.

After a while, Thranduil let out a loud sigh and let his head fall again to the table. “This matter is of my own concern,” He muttered before waving the healer off to leave him. Caraniâ complied, exiting the room to continue wandering the halls. At least his king admitted something was amiss. But at this point, there was little he could do to help if there was nothing he was allowed to know.

Thranduil knew he was overreacting. He was acting like an elfling, not only running from his problems, but also creating them where they didn’t exist. But he couldn’t help but worry. His relationship with his son could crumble immediately if he were to remember their drunken happenings. It was so fragile that the slightest damage to it could cause it to collapse entirely, and he would do anything to keep that from happening. And that would require the ceasing of something he loved entirely too much.

***********  
After asking Caraniâ’s help, Legolas was unsure as to what to do. If he returned to Thranduil, he risked his anger being focused on him, and he very much wished to avoid that. But if he stayed away, he couldn’t help but worry for him. He was very important to him, and he wanted to know that he was alright, even if the reality of it was just an odd mood his king and father was in.

When it came down to it, he didn’t really have much of a choice.  
He padded back from the halls to the dining room, hoping Thranduil was still there. When he saw him as he was, his face pressed firmly into the table and his shoulders slumped, he was both relieved and rather concerned. “Adar?” He asked, tapping his shoulder gingerly, as if too heavy a touch would startle him.  
Thranduil lifted his head and cringed when he saw Legolas hovering above him, so close that he was sorely tempted to grab him and kiss him passionately then and there. But that thought just added to his troubles.

The worst part of the situation was that Thranduil knew his son would not let it go without some sort of valid explanation. And he knew that if he had not made such a scene, he would never be in this situation. The simple avoidability of it made his stomach twist.

“Legolas,” Thranduil began, still unsure of what to say. “You see,” He wracked his brain trying to find something suitable and eventually went with a half-truth, “I sometimes just fear so greatly that I’ll lose you. The thought unsettles me beyond the threat of Mordor and brings me into agony.” Legolas would at least see that he wasn’t lying.

“I don’t understand. Why would you fear losing me?” The confusion was clear on Legolas’ face, and Thranduil knew he would have to find a way to explain further.

He sighed deeply, “Something could happen at any time. Something that could take you from this world or something that could forever take you from my reach.” His eyes unfocused as he thought of the best way to phrase his words so as not to reveal too much. “The possibility is there.”

“Is that all?” Legolas asked, skeptical.

Thranduil nodded slowly, begging all powers that be for Legolas to believe him.

Legolas smiled gently, “I do not think that will happen any time soon.” He looked into Thranduil’s eyes for a sign that his words helped at all, and he found that they lit up a little.  
Even if he knew his son didn’t truly know what he was saying, he felt somewhat reassured but his soft-spoken words. “I’m sorry for acting so strange. I will try not to worry so much.” He meant what he said, but he knew it was unlikely for him to keep to his word. As long as he knew of the nights they spent together, he would always worry that his son would leave him. Because the possibility would always be there.

Seeing Thranduil’s mood appear to brighten, Legolas hugged him briefly but tightly and waved before running along to the rest of the day’s activities. Immediately after he left, the Elvenking allowed his head to fall back onto the table. He felt just as bad as ever.

************  
In truth, Legolas found himself faring not much better than Thranduil. He had told him only the bare minimum of what happened, and left out the piece of information that was leaving him a wreck when he was in his own company.

The strange dreams had returned. He had forgotten about the last time the images had wormed into his mind, but since the previous evening, he was remembering every tentative touch, every bit of warmth of the body against him, and the overwhelming feeling of completeness that filled every part of his body-all the dreamed experiences that were burning in his mind like a ball of white-hot fire.  
At first, they weren't quite so bothersome. Perhaps a bit peculiar, but he figured it was just some weird side effect of alcohol. But at this point that would be ridiculous. His imaginings were far too vivid for that. This was something nearly tangible, and he began to ache for it to gain palpability.

But the longing seemed so out of place and nonsensical. He never had these feelings before. It was as if they just appeared all of a sudden. But their appearance was so strong, releasing such passion, that he barely bothered to question it. He didn't even want to question it. All he wanted was to experience the sensuality of such divine flesh held tightly and rhythmically against him.

He wanted-needed-to do something about it. And soon, lest the throbbing ache of yearning eat at his insides until his hollow walls collapse.

The thoughts consumed him.  
Or at least, they tried, but he was quickly torn from them when he heard a distinctive knock at the door to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't abandoned this! I just needed a break from it. And I have some plot ideas, so there is a good chance I'll actually finish it.
> 
> As for this chapter, sorry about the slight cliffhanger! (Pshhh not)  
> I'll try to update soon!


	4. 1960 Chateau, Saint-Estophe, Medoc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate times call for desperate measures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long update time! (I'm apparently incapable of writing quickly)  
> Hopefully you guys will stick with me anyway :P

"Enter," Legolas sighed, his hands threading through his hair. For now, whatever thoughts he had were pushed aside as the door was opened. He felt an odd nervousness seize him as the familiar form of the court healer strode in; his appearance was grave in every manner, from his dimly lit face to his slow and lifeless stride.

Legolas nodded to him, urging him to speak what he had to say. He seemed to have trouble forming the words, but he eventually managed to convey his meaning as he tentatively spoke, "I'm worried about your father."

Despite the intense gravity of the man before him, Legolas let out an overly effervescent laugh, which lasted for some time, until he caught sight of the grimace on Caranîa's face. 

"Sorry," he quickly apologized, "it's just that he already told me what's wrong. Not much of a problem, really." He was still grinning, but he managed to keep the laughter under control. 

Caranîa seemed unconvinced, so Legolas went on, explaining his father's entire largely falsified story.

When he was finished, the healer still had the same expression of haughty disbelief, and Legolas scowled, which Caranîa ignored. "Do you really believe that?"

"What?" Legolas was caught off guard by his boldness.

"Listen," he started, his eyes serious and his mouth drawn as he paused, "I highly doubt that what he told you was the entire truth...if there were any truth to it at all. If what you said were true, wouldn't the king be worried constantly? This issue, whatever it is, seems to be a new development, which makes that unlikely. Plus, he still doesn't seem to be faring any better than he did earlier," he concluded, his eyes penetrating as he waited anxiously for the prince's reply.

Legolas was slow to speak. The healer seemed to be speaking true. He had no reason to lie, and what he said made sense. He was still suspicious, and regarded the elf warily, but replied civilly, "Then what do you suppose we do?" Even if he hated the idea that his father had lied to him and wanted very much for Caranîa to be completely wrong in his assumptions, he didn't have the heart to deny his father greatly needed aid if the healer was correct.

In truth, the sudden gravity of the prince's words shocked both of them, and Legolas began to feel ashamed of his earlier outburst of laugher. Caranîa himself was now nearly forgetting the show of over-joviality, and instead chose to focus his attention on a fitting answer. 

However, the healer was clueless. That was why he had come to Legolas in the first place, after all. "I have no idea," he admitted softly. He knew something had to be done, but he didn't know what, especially when he didn't have a clue as to what was bothering the king. But if he didn't know how to fix the situation for now, he would at least try to find out what's wrong. He added firmly to his statement, "but there must be a way of getting him to loosen that sharp and guarded tongue of his."

"Yes, a way would have to exist," Legolas agreed, though less enthusiastically, "but what would that be?"

Caranîa paused, waiting for an answer to fall into his open hands. "Well," he said as best he could, as no genius answer seemed to want to come to him, "there's torture, various truth serums..." 

"Neither of which are going to be used on my Ada," Legolas cut in calmly.

"Yes I know," Caranîa hissed in return, "I'm just thinking." He continued slowly, "I suppose we could always get him exceptionally drunk and see what happens." He eyed Legolas carefully as he finished his statement. His words could be taken in various ways, and he hoped they would be viewed in the better light.

But he needn't worry long. A small smile began to tug at the corners of Legolas' mouth. "That could work," he replied simply. It was far less than the healer expected to hear, but he wasn't about to complain.

******

The plan was more or less simple. Get Thranduil drunk...he reveals his secrets. Simple.

More or less.

Thranduil was nursing his food like a petulant child, avoiding eye contact at all cost as he gazed at the walls or the table or his untouched food. Legolas would have found it a very amusing sight if it weren't so frustrating. On top of his apparent foul mood, the Elvenking was deliberately staying sober. He would finger the handle of the glass to give his hands something to do, but he managed to keep from taking a single sip. 

Legolas had watched him the entire meal, his head low but his eyes set high on his form. Usually, he wouldn't dare such brazen staring, but being that his father refused to look at him anyway, it didn't seem to matter too much. Eventually, after all his watching and catching no indication of Thranduil heading in the direction of revealing the answers the two scheming elves were looking for, Legolas decided he needed to interfere. Which unfortunately meant dealing with the sulking king. 

Legolas cleared his throat. When it failed to catch his attention and he continued his spacey staring, Legolas furrowed his brow and began loudly, hoping to startle him, "Has anything happened in the realm today?" 

It was only small talk, but it seemed to have done the trick. Thranduil looked in his direction at least, and after a long pause, replied, "No," then looked away again. His persistence in this was wearing away Legolas' patience.

"You seem extremely tense, Ada," Legolas noted, hoping his words came off with the right tone, "perhaps some wine would help?"

Thranduil looked as though the very thought would make him unnaturally ill. He said nothing, but remained ruffled-looking.

After a long and awkward enough time, Legolas became frustrated and just blurted frankly, "you're keeping a lot of secrets today."

At the words, his head drifted upwards to look his son in the eyes, an incredibly offended expression stamped on his face. He responded icily,"I've kept no secrets."

The annoyance at how badly this was going had gotten to Legolas, and he couldn't keep his voice down as the fire in him rose up to his vocal cords and escaped his gaping mouth, "NEOTH THYRIN LÍN NA LAND ATHAR I MENEL DHAER!"

The expanse of the silence that followed could have extended to Mordor and back. Legolas realized belatedly that he had jumped from his chair and returned to his seat, a heavy blush blossoming on his face. 

Thranduil was deathly pale and wincing. He knew there was truth to his son's words. He WAS keeping secrets, and very large ones at that. But he had no choice but to keep them.

At the very least to somewhat assuage his unease, he knew Legolas was misinterpreting his response to his outburst. As long as he didn't know, it would be fine. Everything would be fine. 

Quickly reassuming his composure, Legolas quietly apologized, bowing his head in a show of atonement.

Thranduil almost pitied him. His statement was nothing but correct, and yet he felt the need to apologize for it. "It's quite alright," he responded softly before he could stop himself, "you're not wrong."

Legolas's brow twitched. He brought his head back up and looked quizzically at his father. His silent stare effectively worked as a direct question. 

A question Thranduil chose to ignore for his own sake. 

But Legolas refused to lower his gaze, keeping his eyes strictly on Thranduil's. The weight of the look was crushing and Thranduil did the best he could to ignore the profound awkwardness he was feeling overcome with. Absolutely desperate to mollify the aching tenseness, Thranduil found himself reaching for his wine that he had initially poured only ceremoniously and swallowing the entire glass. 

Legolas laughed lightly and lifted his gaze. Thranduil ignored him, just happy he was finally looking away.

With a renewed cheer at his slight victory, Legolas initiated more small talk, prodding with his unimportant questions until Thranduil set aside his peculiarly severe mood and lightened up. It took some time and began to get tedious, but eventually, he managed it. Thranduil was even laughing at his attempts at humor. 

But he still was only on his second glass of wine. There had to be a better way. 

********

It was torture, horrible torture, sitting there, complying with his son's coaxing methods. 

His head was spinning and he couldn't concentrate, and yet he was hardly drinking. 

He looked at Legolas for half a second before he had to look away again, as if too long a glance might sully his innocent son.

His innocent son that he had already in fact taken advantage of. And would gladly do so again on this very table were the situation to allow it.

He mentally groaned, frustrated at the rate of his thoughts. His head still spun. He couldn't possibly be sober.

"Did you poison this?" Thranduil asked hesitantly, his hand resting lightly at the bottom of the glass.

"What? No," Legolas looked appalled at such a suggestion, "of course not."

However, Legolas' case for this wasn't helped much by Thranduil choosing that exact moment to fall face-first into the table, passed out completely. 

"Caranîa did."

**********

The plan was not going how it was originally intended. Thranduil's unconscious body was currently thrown over Legolas' shoulder as he walked through the halls to his father's bedroom. He had meant to just get him drunk enough to tell him what's been bothering him. But as that didn't seem to be working, Legolas and Caranîa had to resort to more drastic measures. It wasn't exactly the ideal situation, but casting a glance at body slung over him, he decided he wasn't too bothered by the change of events.

When he reached the chambers, he threw Thranduil onto the bed slightly rougher than intended, the offset of weight causing him to briefly stumble.

The sight of him, passed out and splayed amongst the covers, was both amusing and positively gorgeous. There was always something somewhat ethereal about him, and as Legolas watched him there, he noted that even in more unkingly situations, that never faded. His hair was wild beneath him, his eyes were shut and his mouth was ever slightly open. It was a struggle for him to ignore the urge to taste his lips just them. They were perfectly pink and just begging to be kissed. But Legolas refused to give in. It wouldn't be right. 

Instead, he continued with the plan, which was effectively his backup. He pulled the pieces of thin rope from his pockets and began securing Thranduil to his bed, starting with his wrists.

It was such a good idea at the time. With Thranduil tied up, he would have no choice but to tell him what was bothering him! 

But it did not take long for the prince to realize that that was very, very much a mistake. And as he finished tying Thranduil's ankles, he realized that he couldn't quite remember why he thought this was a good idea. 

He felt a pang in his loins just looking at him, tied and helpless. He began imagining all the things he would love to do to him....and immediately cursed himself for coming up and following through with this plan.

Fighting his urges, he sat at the desk in the corner of the room and waited, quietly watching, for Thranduil to wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Noeth thyrin lín na land athar i menel dhaer": (approx) your secrets are greater than the massive firmament


	5. Cabernet

Thranduil woke very calmly. His sleep was clear of dreams and he couldn't remember the last time he had gotten such good rest. However, when he tried to stretch out and found he couldn't, his calm seemed to dissipate, replaced by violent, panicked thrashing about.

Legolas, who had been nearly asleep himself, cast a narrow eye at the form on the bed to check what the noise was. When he realized his father had woken, he took a second to compose himself before lifting himself from the chair and stepping before him. "calm yourself," he admonished, the powerful position already allowing him to speak slightly down to him.

Legolas had never seen such a look of consternation on Thranduil's face and he spared a laugh before he spoke seriously. "This looks worse than it is," he explained, "I just want some answers."

"So you resorted to this? You couldn't have just asked?"

"I tried that," Legolas replied, calm and cold, "it didn't work." Though he was answering Thranduil's question, his words were largely for himself, in order to convince himself that he had a good reason to do this and it wasn't just because he had a strong desire to tie his father to the bed.

"Now," Legolas began, taking another tiny step towards his father, so that his knees now brushed against the bed. "I want you to tell me what's been upsetting you."

"I already told you," Thranduil replied sharply.

"What you told me," Legolas refuted, as he placed a knee on the bed for balance, "is far from the whole truth, and you know it."

Thranduil grimaced. Legolas was inching closer and his discomfort was growing by the second. "You are exceptionally bright, ion nin. But I cannot stress the extent to which I can't fully answer you."

"Why, Ada?" After all the deceit and secrets, Legolas was beginning to feel exhausted and fairly hurt. "Why must you keep this to yourself? It only seems to be hurting you."

A warm but dry smile touched Thranduil's features. "Some hurts are worth enduring for the better of those around you. You should know that." It was, however, only words to Thranduil, and as much as he wanted Legolas to believe what he said, he couldn't help but think that he would give anything to escape from the painful restrictions binding him to his bed. Though the cloth tying him was soft and not too tight, he was exposed. Too exposed. And it hurt like hell imagining the consequences that might have.

But Legolas realized in that moment that he didn't care if any knowledge his father had would hurt him. He just wanted him to feel better. "No, Ada. I don't want you to be in pain."  
He pulled back his leg and placed a hand on the mattress before moving from the end to the side of it to be closer to Thranduil's face. He lowered his voice to a near-whisper as he edged nearer to him, "Whatever's hurting you...you don't need to keep it to yourself." 

His caring was evident in the mere timbre of his voice, and Thranduil almost felt it would be safe to admit the truth of his troubles as he looked into the blue eyes that were set so gently on him. But something inside stopped him, and all he could vocalize was a half-choked, "I love you, Legolas." 

The prince was a little taken aback by the abruptness of the statement, but he replied without thinking too much, "I love you too, but..." The 'why' didn't seem to need to be said. But Thranduil seemed even more troubled after his return of the usual pleasantry. He leaned over and placed an assuaging kiss on his forehead, stroking back several strands of hair from his face.

Still he looked even worse, and his heart felt like it were being squashed as he looked at his pain-marred features.

"Legolas," he said softly, "can you please untie me now?"

He looked so downtrodden that even though he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted, he couldn't help but oblige and began loosening the tie on his right wrist.

But as he began, he was overwhelmed by the warmth of the skin he touched and unconsciously stroked at his hands and trailed over his fingers. Thranduil twitched under the touch at first, but as Legolas continued to play with his hand, he mindlessly curled his fingers around his, entwining them. 

Legolas smiled grandly and, after pulling the tie to finally release his wrist, brought their hands up between them and set his free hand on his shoulder. As if struck with inspiration, he made sure Thranduil's eyes were set on his and brought his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. He was very satisfied to find that Thranduil's pained appearance was replaced by unmistakable pleasure. Hoping desperately he wasn't misinterpreting, he moved his other hand up about his neck, caressing the skin until his cupped his cheek, his fingers idly brushing his jaw. He slowly separated their fingers and placed his hand on the mattress beside him, leaning in, keeping eye contact until Thranduil closed his eyes, and kissed him carefully on the lips. 

Shock would have overcome the king completely if he weren't so overwhelmed with the happiness and warmth filling his entire body. He reached for his son with his finally free hand and pulled him as close as he could get. 

His desperation slowly registering in him, Legolas pulled back and reached across him to get at the other tie. With both hands free, Thranduil clutched at him eagerly, which Legolas was very happy to accede to. He acquiesced to the desire that had bubbled over both of them, and climbed fully onto the bed, getting into a better position by straddling his father. He moaned instantly as he rubbed his groin against his, which Thranduil echoed in his gorgeously clear voice. 

He never would have imagined how drastically the sound of his father's pleasured moans would affect him. He fell to wantonness just trying to hear the beauty of his voice once more, grinding directionlessly against him. Thranduil steadied him with a heavy grasp on his arse, which cause a gasp to escape him and his eyes to briefly fly open again.

Thranduil caught them so unexpectedly that he ripped his hands away and weakly attempted to scramble from Legolas' body, which was covering him so much it was impossible.

"Legolas!" He hissed, brow furrowing. "Are you drunk?"

Legolas narrowed his eyes before pressing his hands before him against his chest, then leaning forward and taking his lips in his, murmuring "no" through the kiss. 

He didn't seem entirely convinced, but he couldn't help rising a hand to thread through his son's hair, and letting it rest finally on his shoulder. "Wouldn't be the first time, anyway," he murmured as he moved his head to plant kisses down his neck. Legolas moaned and arched to offer more skin for his taking. 

"Wait what?" He frowned for a second, finally registering what he said. But several kisses later, he forgot Thranduil's words completely and found himself focusing solely on the sensations he was feeling. Every touch, every brush of skin, pure electric.

He sighed as Thranduil's hand moved from his shoulder down his arm and finally grabbed him at the waist. As he brought his other hand to stroke his clothed cock, as he asserted his control to perfectly sync their movements so that each gyration sent spikes of pleasure through them both. 

"Oh, Ada," Legolas moaned helplessly as Thranduil continued his painfully good movements. 

The words sent a shiver down Thranduil's spine in the best possible way. Legolas was sober. Legolas was sober and he was his. Nothing felt as having that knowledge and holding the warm form above him, feeling every insignificant part of him-his hair tickling him, the increasingly heavy breathing laying warmth against his neck, the impossible heat at every point of contact. 

"Ada, stop."

Thranduil stopped breathing. 

"I'm going to come like this if you keep going."

Thranduil smiled gently and kissed his son's neck, murmuring nonsense against him, which Legolas had to ask him to repeat.

"We have forever, Legolas. My little leaf," Thranduil replied at length. 

With a few more jerks, Legolas couldn't help crying out his pleasure, and came hard within his clothing. 

When he came down from the orgasm he looked dazedly into his his father's eyes, which were focused on him with a cheery contentment. "Melin le, Ada."

Thranduil laughed happily and kissed the top of his son's head. "I love you, Legolas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long update time again, sorry. But I got it all figured out and this is the last real chapter. The next one will be a nice epilogue.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thanks to all you guys that read this and left nice comments and kudos <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I don’t know if anyone cares, but I put together an epilogue playlist for these two! (just bc I love these sorts of things)  
> It’s got a bittersweet feeling to it, but that’s really just how I imagine these two. (and I based it off of sound, rather than lyrics :P)
> 
> 1\. Some Kinda Love-The Velvet Underground  
> 2\. Satellite of Love-Lou Reed  
> 3\. Northern Downpour-Panic! At the Disco  
> 4\. Together- The Raconteurs  
> 5\. Creep-Radiohead  
> 6\. The Breaking of the Fellowship-Howard Shore

Thranduil felt such a singular happiness then, waking to the feeling of warmth from the body next to him. He was finally guiltless, and he pressed a feather-light morning kiss to his son’s temple. Legolas stirred slightly in his sleep, but did not wake. 

He used the opportunity to just look at him, to take in his utter beauty, as well as reflect on how unbelievably lucky he was to be able to. For so long he had wanted this-the simplicity of the ability to look, to really look. And to wake lying next to him in bed, unclothed and sated-he could hardly believe he was awake. 

Legolas didn’t even seem tangible. His perfection in his tussled blond hair, and the golden tones in his skin casting such color, such beauty, to him under the pale morning light…

Thranduil sighed deeply. He had to touch him to see if he was really there, and when his fingers brushed against his exposed skin, he knew he was real, but he could still scarcely believe it. The warmth was too warm, the red on his lips was too red, and his voice was far too gentle, mumbling “ada” in his sleep…

He smiled blissfully and answered with equal tone, “Yes, Legolas?”

“You know I’m awake, right?” He muttered into the pillow.

Thranduil did not. He definitely thought he was asleep. “Yes, my Greenleaf, I know. But you are too beautiful not to gaze at whenever possible.”

Legolas snorted and mumbled into his pillow, “Did you rehearse those lines?” 

Thranduil grinned and wrapped him in his arms, pressing another kiss into his hair. Legolas lifted his head to look at him, one eye half-closed in sleepiness, and lovingly kissed his lips before letting his head fall back onto the softness of the bed. “I love you, Ada,” Legolas said quietly before drifting back into sleep in his father’s arms.

“You make me so happy,” Thranduil sighed, closing his eyes and enjoying the comfortable perfection of the moment.


End file.
